


Spring Feeling

by Redporkpadthai (Emomanga1)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Clothes On, Hand Jobs, M/M, Platonic Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, fantasy/roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6392899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emomanga1/pseuds/Redporkpadthai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is Whits' best friend on the team and being friends and roomies denotes a level of intimacy.  So it's honestly painful to watch Jack flounder around his hot friend from college, "Eric", who is totally his type. But he doesn't want to encroach on Jack's game so he thinks he has a solution that will satisfy them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmagrant01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrant01/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Something Like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126172) by [emmagrant01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrant01/pseuds/emmagrant01). 



> I am in LOVE with [Emmagrant01's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrant01/pseuds/emmagrant01)  
> [Something Like This](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6126172/chapters/14039809). So here's a little gift-fic for her and everyone else who loves it <3

They’re in LA in the spring, their last regulation game before the playoffs which went spectacular. Jack managed a point and an assist and Whits got the assist on Jack’s point, which won them the game 2-1. They are both pretty pleased with themselves and have been hanging out at the hotel after their noon game, since it's too early to go out for beers.

They’re hanging out on one of the queen beds in the double room skyping. Earlier is was Shitty, so Whits butted right in to say hi and eventually they ended up calling Bitty whose now busy flitting around the kitchen on screen.

“What did you do today, Bittle?” Jack asks. “Besides baking.”

“Ha, ha Mr. Zimmermann” Bitty grins over his shoulder at the camera. “I actually went shopping today.”

“For more baking supplies” Jack grins.

Bitty looks at Whits through the screen with a ‘can you believe this guy” look.

Whits is grinning, careful not to say anything and break the spell of their chirping/flirting.

“Lardo and I went shopping for Spring C” Bitty says as he returns to kneading the pie dough. Jack tenses next to him minutely, not that he can blame the guy. He stalked Eric on Twitter and found last year’s ‘Spring C’ tweets and photo of him and Shitty in the shortest little red shorts he’s ever seen. They were taut over his lean muscled legs and Whits can only imagine how they pulled over his pert ass. Jack had apparently piggy-backed him home, hands having to hold all that skin on the walk back because Bitty had lost his shoe. Whits secretly praised Jack for his tolerance.

After a long beat of Jack silently freaking out, he says, “Oh? What’d you get, I want to see.”

Bitty stops kneading dough and looks surprised into the camera, then breaks out into a grin. “Sure, why I don’t I model for you guys real quick.” Bitty brushes his hands and wipes them on his apron before dashing out of frame. He hears footfalls on stairs in the background.

“You sly dog,” Whits says, smirking at Jack.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jack says stone-faced.

“You aren’t fooling anybody, bud. I’ve seen last years Spring C pictures,” Whits says.

Jack doesn’t say anything, simply looks away and a faint blush tinges his ears. Whits knocks his shoulder good naturedly from where he’s lounging next to him.

Bitty returns in frame apron in hand. He’s in light blue shorts with the waistband rolled over and a wide cut gray crop-top with Yonce’ written in metallic letters across the chest. With his arms down the top covers his stomach but when he lifts the apron to pull it over his head, he exposed a large plane of toned skin with a smattering of curly light blonde hairs under his navel. Bitty ties the apron behind his back and gets back to work. Whits looks over and Jack is frozen in place.

“Lardo got a cute black and red romper to match the floral snap back that she ‘appropriated’”, Bitty makes finger quotes. “—From Shitty the last time she visited him.”

“You two will make quite the pair” Whits says.

Bitty looks up his brow at the screen. Whits thinks he spies a faint blush on him too.

“Thanks” Bitty says.

After another fifteen minutes of light conversation, with Bitty flitting around in next to nothing preparing his pies (apple maple caramel), they say their goodbyes and hang up. Jack had been awfully quite during the rest of conversation so Whits had to carry on chatting with Bitty in his stead. Not that he minded.

“Bitty was looking good,” Whits say after they hang up. Jack nods, still staring off into space. “You still up for beers?” he asks.

“Yeah, sure… maybe,” Jack still seems to be off in space. He hasn’t moved the laptop from his lap, only closed the lid and now he’s staring at it.

Whits checks his eye-line and snickers. “Oh I see, do I need to leave you alone, let you fantasize about Eric by yourself?”

At this, Jack snaps up looking at him. “What?”

“Come on man, that outfit was hot. I understand,” Whits says.

“I-It’s not like that,” Jack says, glaring down into his lap. “Bittle and I are just friends.”

Whits contemplates him. “Uh huh, a friend that you’ve got a massive hard-on for. There’s no shame in it, Jack.” Whits sits back down on the bed and faces his friend, who still seems to be under going an internal struggle. Whits waits, and then thinks a moment and says, “Is that how he would say your name? Jack?” 

Whits is staring him down now and leans forward and into his ear whispers, “Or is more like _Jack_?” whimpering his name. Jack’s head thuds on the headboard and he shuts his eyes, breathing deepening.

“Or maybe its more like ‘ _Oh... Jack_.’” Whits’ thigh is aligned along Jack’s opposite him and now he’s resting his hand on it, supporting his weight while he continues to lean into his ear. “Would he be surprised by your advances? If you touched him?”

Jack blows air out of his nose is quick huff and turns away, eyebrows knitted. Whits massages Jack’s thigh under his palm. “Hmm?”

Whits waits, for a confirmation or denial, and when he receives none, he moves his hand up Jack’s thigh. Jack glares half-heartedly at him from where his head is still against the board.

“Maybe he moans. He doesn’t seem like he’s got a lot of experience with someone... ‘experienced’” Whits pulls away slightly so he can see Jack’s face better. “And with the thing he’s got for athletes, well he’d be ecstatic to land a professional hockey player.” He smirks at him. He thinks Jack rolls his eyes a little at that one.

Whits trudges on. “It probably sounds something like this:” he raises the pitch of voice slightly. “ _Ah, Jack, yesss_.” Whits hisses out the yes and raises his hand even further on Jack’s thigh. He can feel the outline of Jack’s cock trough his nylon shorts and cotton underwear. Jack moans, low and quiet, his eyes squeezed shut and hands fisted tightly in the comforter beneath them. Whits grins, and continues.

“Come on Jack, you know Eric better than I do.” He says. “What would he sound like?”

Whits pauses, kneading the crook between Jack’s thigh and pelvis. He is about to give up on getting Jack to respond during this interaction, but he hears the mumbled beginnings of a sentence escape Jack’s tight lips.

“He… He’d say…” jack starts quietly. “He’d mumble and make little gasping noises.” Jack says instead.

Whits starts palming himself, through his loose shorts. He’s not wearing underwear because he knew he’d be changing later, and he shakes a little at the odd texture of the shorts against his dick. He looks up, giving himself a moment, before meeting Jack’s eyes again with a mischievous smirk.

Affecting a shy demeanor, he tucks his chin to chest and makes little gasps and ‘ahs’, trying to mimic Bitty’s tone. Jack is staring him down now, hard-faced, finally letting his hand sit over his erection, overlapping the ends of Whits fingers. Whits squeezes his thigh and continues to palm himself and moan and writhe a little. It’s a little silly on him but it seems to be working for Jack, which is hot.

“What are his hands like?” Whits says quietly.

“Damn soft,” Jack replies. Whits snickers at him lightly and Jack gives him a small grin. Jack moves his other hand to rest lightly inside Whit’s knee where its bunched on the bed next to him.

Whits retreats his hand from where Jack’s hip and lower stomach meet and dances it up Jack’s thigh from his knee back up to his crotch. Jack’s thigh jumps at the touch.

“I bet. He’s got good…stick handling,” Whits says full on smirking. Jack smirks back.

“You could say that,” Jack says.

“I’m sure he’s got a lot of experience with his own. Stick that is,” Whits continues.

“I don’t doubt it,” Jack says, openly stroking himself through his shorts, eyes lidding.

“He might have trouble adjusting to a longer stick, you know” Whits is watching Jack stroke himself and tries to mimic him stroke for stroke. “Different grip, different center of gravity. He’d have to adjust for the up swing, with a stick heavier than his own. I’ll bet he really gets a work-out on his tri-ceps, that’s a full arm exercise.”

Jack is moaning and hurriedly tugging on himself through his pants. He’s slid down the bed some and his head is turned away again and his eyes are shut with tight eyebrows. Whits turns around and lays down next to Jack. Jack lets his hand trail over Whit’s abdomen as he readjusts and it settles on his lower belly.

They lay there and quietly stroke themselves. Whits watches Jack, enamored. He’s not his usual type (although it seems like they share a similar type) but Jack is severely handsome none-the-less. And jacking off to Jack’s hot blonde friend is also helping. If Jack wasn’t obviously head over heels for the guy, he’d try his shot at Eric. He thinks he has chance, Bittle has a type too, and he’s similar enough looking to Jack to not see the signs.

“I’ve jacked off to the thought of Eric before,” Whits confesses. Jack looks over at him, mildly surprised, but doesn't stop his ministrations on himself. Whits joins him and cups his balls while Jack continues to stroke. Jack arches off the bed slightly and whimpers. It shoots straight to Whits dick and he picks up his pace.

  
“I know you have, too,” Whits says. Jack tenses momentarily but Whits barges on. “That bunny suit, totally not subtle.” Whits sighs and closes his eyes. “You or him,” he adds, opening them again. He huffs a laugh, “I thinks he's literally trying to say ‘fuck me. I’ll be your groupie’,” Whits fondles Jack some more.

“And you fell for it,” he says. “Well we both did.” He pauses. “Did you go and jerk off in the shower after you showed me that pic?” he asks.

“No," Jack says. Whits thinks that's a damn lie, but Jack continues, "I wouldn’t have been able to look at the photo if I was in the shower. I jerked off looking at his picture, standing at the sink.” Jack says slowly. “And I could see myself in the mirror,” he adds.

“Gross,” Whit’s chuckles.

“I cleaned up after myself. I’m a big boy” Jack says, mock-indignantly back.

“Oh I know you are, I can attest to what my hands are feeling,” Whit’s says.

He shoos Jack's hand from himself and begins stroking him fully, moving Jack’s hand lower onto his own tented crotch.

They gasp and moan, stroking each other. They are so close. It feels oddly familiar, like masturbating, but with someone else’s hand. Friendly and intimate in a non-romantic way. Whits ratchets up his pace till he feels Jack buck and arch against the bed, a strangled ‘Oh!’ leaving Jack’s throat. Jack’s hand on his erection pauses while he rides out his orgasm, but picks up after he catches his breath and Whits soon follows, curling into Jack’s shoulder and grabbing the bicep of the arm jerking him off, the pull of muscles under his hand mesmerizing. Jack strokes him through until he’s waving him away.

They lay there, eyes closed and catch their breaths.

After a moment Jack says, “ _Crisse_.” Then laughs, a warm chuckle before smiling warmly down at him.

Whits laughs too, and rolls onto his back.

“You and Eric have a good thing going, don’t be afraid to take it to next level” Whits says patting the arm next to his.

Jack is silent a moment. “You think so?”

“Yeah, you should hop on that man, I’m super jealous,” Whits smiles up at him.

“Hey man, you already slept with my ex,” Jack is grinning now.

“Yeah, and it was super hot." He smiles. "I think we have a type Jack,” he says.

“Yeah we do,” Jack sighs contentedly. They let the moment linger between them.

“Welp, that was fun, but I’m gonna go take another shower,” Whit says, slapping Jack’s thigh and hopping off the bed.

“Okay, wake me when you get out so I can shower too,” Jack says, drifting.

“Sure. You still up for drinks tonight?” Whits asks shucking his shirt and cum-stained shorts.

Jack doesn’t respond, already snoozing lightly. Whits rolls and eyes and shuts the bathroom door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks everyone! You can find me at [tumblr](http://redporkpadthai.tumblr.com/)


End file.
